


the beholders

by halfaday



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Slice of Life, alternate universe - the seven wonders are all still standing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday
Summary: Beauty is everywhere, beauty is eternal. This time, it is found in a book, and a thousand sights belonging to another country.(Or: the aliens set their sights on yet another wonder of the world, and it is Dejun's job to negotiate with them.)(And Doyoung, of course - Doyoung follows.)
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22
Collections: Challenge #4 — Awaken The World





	the beholders

**Author's Note:**

> this is post-apocalypse, however so post-apo that it's been a long time since humanity died and robots took over. aka: the characters of this fic are all doing tremendously well, and this is slice of life taking a bath in scifi.  
> (no, robots did not kill humanity — humans did that to, and all by, themselves)
> 
> an additional note: robots in this au have the ability to regulate their body temp (like katy perry's partner in That song, they are sometimes hot, sometimes cold)

Doyoung has started another book. _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan —_ two hundred and thirty-two pages of a fictional retelling by a fictional character, who goes through a life that is seven-wonders, A.I-less - full of human beings, and their ephemeral experiences — a pretty red cover that glows in the dark, and seems to lure Dejun into bed when he finally comes home.

Of course, Dejun only learns the title later: he's not one to squint at (almost) total darkness, and he's not one to fight back rest — he's one to crumble down once his body hits the mattress, and one to curl up to the warm body sleeping next to him.

(One to tangle his fingers with Doyoung's, and burrow his face in the crook of his neck — one to kiss the smooth skin under his lips, once, twice, thrice, when Doyoung shifts and sighs)

'Did today go well?'

(Dejun plants yet another kiss on Doyoung's neck, wraps an arm around his waist — he falls into place with him, perfectly like always, and ignores the soft but noticeable glow (softly, gently) brightening up the entire room — he focuses on Doyoung, and, once again - as always - until the end of times — kisses him again.)

'Superbly so. Good day, Doyoung.'

(He disconnects for the night.)

❤

 _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ lies on the kitchen counter when Dejun breaks the great news to Doyoung — it basks into the sun for one, five, seventeen, thirty-four minutes, until it is grabbed again, and shoved against a chest warmer than the sun (shoved in-between two warm chests, later on, as Doyoung hugs Dejun tightly, and tells him he's _incredibly happy for him)._

'Of course you'll do well,' Doyoung says in the afternoon — sitting upright on the couch, and petting Dejun's hair, brushing it back as he stares down at him lovingly (his book lying on the kitchen table, absorbing the shadows the rain brings with her while its pages take a break from showing their wonders to curious eyes). 'Of course I'll follow you.'

It's simple words, really — words Doyoung have said before, and words that will probably be uttered again and again — as the aliens hovering over and around the planet find yet a new thing they like, and occupy it until the government owning said-thing gets fed up of them - and Dejun is sent to negotiate for the nth (but certainly not the last) time. It's routine, by now — another adventure that involves them.

And yet: it warms Dejun's engine, and soothes his circuits — it makes electricity sparkle in his head, and makes him - giggly, dizzy, red in the face and warm in the chest.

'Thank you,' he murmurs — and he brings the hand that lies on his chest to his lips, kisses it — whispers that he loves Doyoung, and that he's excited to see new sights with him.

'Likewise, love. Likewise.'

(Grabbing his book again once time is back on track and their moment has dissolved into the archive in their skulls, settling by the balcony like he does during sunny winter days — Doyoung starts reading the second chapter of _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan,_ and Dejun, milliseconds before making a list - minutes before heading to their room to prepare their luggage - as always - Dejun falls a little more in love.)

❤

 _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ is shut on page 86 when the plane lands — it's kept slightly open with a forefinger slipped between it and page 87, all the way to the hotel, all the way to room 245 — until luggage are finally laid on the floor, and Doyoung uses the hotel's plan to a somewhat good use.

'I have regrets,' he confesses a few hours later — while he and Dejun are taking a stroll on the port nearby, and letting the heat of Turkey clash with their cold bodies, hands intertwined and legs taking them to unknown places. 'I should have looked for bookmarks in one of these airport shops.'

 _It's fine,_ Dejun shrugs — stepping closer to him, and rubbing his thumb over the attempt at flawless skin underneath — tracing the scar that's there, and kissing it discreetly, whispering directions against it before diving back into the matter they were discussing (now sheltered by houses on both sides, and with only a warm breeze to battle against their frozen systems — with none around to interrupt them, and only the descending sun as a witness to their conversation). 

'I'll buy you one,' Dejun offers, 'or you can look for one while I'm negotiating with the aliens. Or,' he quickly corrects upon meeting Doyoung's displeased gaze, upon seeing a frown bloom on his face, 'we can go together.'

 _We can have some time to ourselves once I'm done,_ he slips in-between two turns, one left and one right, the end of the street and a black cat staring back at them — before they head back to their hotel, and crash on the bed while the sun finally sets - the walls painted red, and their sheets a pale but comforting orange.

'And where will we go?'

Dejun shifts, sits up — he considers Doyoung's question, the gears of his skull spinning fast, faster while he skims through nearby places — the gears of his chest speeding up, and up, as he lets his imagination take a few steps ahead, and run for a few meters.

(There's this restaurant, perfect for a date — there's the sea, perfect for a quiet afternoon — there's this museum, and this district, and this cinema, this store, this florist, this other restaurant…)

(There's so much to do, so many memories to make — Dejun blinks back to the present, and finds Doyoung _staring,_ waiting for him to give him an answer.)

(He forgoes considering, and sinks back down — half-draped over Doyoung, and fully nestled into his side — fitting him perfectly, like always, he murmurs)

'Wherever you want,' 

(And he falls into place with him, fits every corner of his being, his soul like he was made for him)

(And outside the moon is blue, and inside everything is painted silver — _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ glows a timid red, and thanks the light for embracing it.)

(Beneath multicoloured covers — gears forget about plans, and dream instead.)

❤

The building by the mausoleum is huge. Climbing up and up and stretching its tip into the clouds, looking onto every angle of the ground far beneath — it's modernity clashing with ancient history, the future _Grey Gayan_ never got meeting with the past he never studied.

It's weird, Dejun originally thinks, waiting for his future temporary associates in the hall, sitting and rising and sitting only to rise again. But as the day goes by, he gets used to it, gets used to staring out at the view and then the rest of the world, gets used to ancient times gazing back at him — and by eighteen o'clock - he finds it pleasing, almost beautiful, and compliments, pleased words pour out of his mouth as he recounts it all to Doyoung two days later.

There is beauty in worlds opposing each other, Dejun thinks, tells his half quietly — and, sitting on their hotel balcony (slightly smaller, much sunnier than the one back home) with _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ by his side, basking in the light of a sun that will never warm him — Doyoung agrees, _oohs_ and _aahs_ as Dejun talks, as he lists all the sights he's seen during his day. (He makes the most out of words where sharing eyesights is forbidden, and gives back an accurate view on everything — he leans back, and listens, makes Dejun feel at home even with kilometres between them.)

(He makes Dejun miss him, in the simplest, deepest ways possible — and as the moon is high in the sky and Dejun still conscious, lonely — he makes the hole in his chest ache, and almost resemble a beating heart.)

(He makes immortal life a very strange thing, Dejun thinks — but by his side, after years spent with him and an entire world in the palm of his hand, archived in his system and carried by the secondary battery in his chest — Dejun wouldn't trade this for anything in the entire world, and he treasures it.) (He treasures _Doyoung,_ and everything he represents, everything he brought to the light.) (He loves him, dearly, and feels just like _Grey Gayan_ when he stood on top of the Great Mountain in chapter 12, and realised that there was only one person he would die with.)

(Love, they say, is the original wonder that birthed it all — and Dejun knows - he agrees.)

❤

With the shadows of the waning afternoon clinging to him as he races down the stairs, with a spring in his every step and a heart that would beat fast, faster if he had one — Dejun wraps up his very last day of negotiation, and plans on running back home until he's nestled into Doyoung's arms — he reaches the reception with newfound energy, and hands the key to the temporary home he was given by the alien government itself, smiles as kindly as he can to the receptionist.

 _Yes, of course,_ he replies when they ask him if he had a good, pleasant, satisfying stay, and he hangs around just a little more, chats with them for a few minutes, before the time to turn away and never come back appears before him. He smiles, and bounces off what they tell him — and when the conversation finally, finally dies, he straightens himself up, and announces that he will get going.

'It's been a pleasure,' he says, _means_ — and the receptionist welcomes his words with a bow, a sincere _thank you_ that travels all the way to Dejun's gears.

(They call out to him as he's waiting for the entrance doors to open, and swiftly catch up with him — they hurriedly shove a small package into his hands, and tell him it's a gift.)

'You're a valuable member of your company,' they tell him — quoting the aliens Dejun worked with, down to the tone and rhythm with which they spoke — making him tilt his head, and consider the kraft wrapping, the rectangular object in his hand. 'We hope you will enjoy this one.'

(It's an enigma, how they could _tell,_ how they figured it out — as he walks back home, kraft paper buried deep in his bag, new, matte book in his hands, Dejun wonders if he let something slip, past his lips or his thoughts — if he thought too loud, and it seeped into his demeanor, his work.)

(It didn't, of course, and it will take a while for him to realise this. As it is: Dejun gets home, and forgets about it all as soon as Doyoung is in his arms — he restitutes his lover what is his, and watches happiness bloom over his face.)

Sitting on the bedside table of the hotel, far away from the dusk slowly taking over the world, _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ has a new successor, and can be finished with peace of mind.

❤

Away from him, stuck in an unfamiliar city with a book he wanted to read slowly — Doyoung has already visited everything — he leads Dejun through streets and alleys, and shows him around like he's been here for years — he holds his hand tightly, loosely, but never lets go of it — he kisses him under the burning sun, and murmurs that he loves him, quietly in a store as they look for old newspapers — a little louder as they stroll on the beach, and only the sea can listen to their confessions.

'The sights here are beautiful,' he says after yet another kiss, softly planted upon Dejun's lips — as they sit on the dike, and watch the sun set, slowly slowly slowly, with eternity forever keeping them close to her. 'I'll miss it.'

 _Me too,_ Dejun admits — and he lets an image slip through their connection, the mausoleum basking in the dusk's embrace, far below the clouds and the fearless birds - still standing, against time and every other odd, and carrying, reflecting a history that happened long ago.

 _Gorgeous,_ Doyoung thinks, says out loud, and Dejun can only agree — can only loosely retell the sights he saw once again, and sighs fondly, already missing it all — basking in the same melancholy as Doyoung, and feeling like the world is slipping from his fingertips.

'Nonsense, it is forever yours,' Doyoung murmurs when the thought slinks past Dejun's system and into his own — and he leans against him, rests his head on his shoulder — he snakes his arms around his waist, and hugs him until the sun has disappeared, and the bright heavens are sinking into dark shades of blue (until they're back into their room, and the embrace is more intimate, nestled in a bed while the moon glows at its summit — while _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ glows too, and its remaining forty pages are marked with Dejun's watch)

(Until the morning is there, and they laze around in bed, intertwined like old vines, glued together like they were made to be a pair)

(Once again, like a puzzle of only two pieces; two halves of the same whole.)

(Doyoung stretches his arms, and fakes a yawn — he offers his hand to Dejun, and points at the door.)

'Shall we? I have half a world to show you, still.'

(And just like _Grey Gayan_ in page 195, paragraph 3 — Dejun takes the hand that is extended, and steps into what's his wholeheartedly.)

❤

Upon boarding the plane, the bookmark Doyoung bought just the day before rests in-between page 202 and page 203 — it peeks, largely, at the top, and offers the outside, curious world, silver lines embossed upon green leaves made of felt — it offers a view on chapter 17 when the plane takes off and Doyoung opens his book - and Dejun leans his head on his shoulder, dives into the book with him — he reads at his pace, and strokes Doyoung's hand when he closes _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ with only a chapter, an epilogue left to read.

'Not now?' 

Doyoung intertwines their fingers, and nods.

'Not now.'

_(Now_ is for quiet chats, a moment that only belongs to them and the place that welcomed them in — it is a moment of silence, and appreciation for something they won't see again for a long, long time — it is a time out of Time, that shall only bide in their archive.)

(Teasing Doyoung about the smudge he got on his nose the day before, leaning just a little too forward in hope that he will be kissed — Dejun locks his gears, and saves everything, everything, everything.)

(And milliseconds later — Doyoung kisses him.)

❤

Beaming as if he were the sun himself, carrying more light and energy than a thousand fires — Doyoung joins Dejun on the couch, and wraps himself around him, octopus in dire need of a rock. (Kind being mourning the world that was once everything to him, and recovering from the emotions it made him feel — resurfacing from his trip into the reddest ocean, and getting accustomed to the outside air once again.)

'Satisfied?'

Dejun holds Doyoung's hands, periodically gives them a caress — he looks at him and him only, and listens to his incessant, neverending, fascinating rambling.

'Yes.'

_(It is beautiful,_ Doyoung later says, brings up as they both sit in bed — as he curls up to Dejun, and gazes at the old newspapers he is reading, one they bought in Turkey - eyes wandering on the page, and not registering anything — only looking, and appreciating the way everything looks.

 _What is?_ Dejun asks.)

(And Doyoung smiles, shrugs.

_Everything. Everything about this all. Isn't it beautiful? Losing yourself in something, temporarily, and finding the same self there — switching worlds, just for a little while, and forgetting about what matters in your home universe.)_

(Dejun smiles back, fond, in love — not quite understanding Doyoung, but registering his words, and knowing what he means.) (Surely he can relate, surely there is something that switches his worldview from time to time, and makes him lose north, turns it into south.)

(Of course.)

'Yes. it is beautiful, indeed.'

(And later placed back on their bookshelf, glowing red amidst the other covers, _Life, Adventures and Immortality of Grey Gayan_ sits, rests. it waits until it is picked up again, and sojourning once more. 

By the bed - Doyoung's gift sits, green matte that reflects absolutely nothing — it clashes with the bookmark, but accepts it wholeheartedly when Doyoung sinks it between pages 1 and 2.)

And as Dejun goes to work, as Doyoung kisses him goodbye — as they sit together, once the evening has come, and the heavens are fit for a glowing cover again — their world merges into something else, and their north - turns red.

(And it truly is, beautiful.)

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/millesoirees) :D


End file.
